Griffin W.E.B. - The Corps 08 - In Dangers Path

«Come with me, I'll drive you home,» Milla said.

Mae Su looked at her and nodded her head, just once, but didn't speak.

The current of the Yangtze River finally moved the

President Madison

far enough away from the wharf to allow her engines to be engaged. There was a sudden powerful churning at her stern, under the American flag hanging limp from a pole, and she began to move, ever faster, both farther away from the wharf and down the Yangtze.

Milla and Mae Su watched until it was no longer possible to make out individual Marines on her deck, and then Mae Su looked up at Milla, and they walked to the Pontiac and got in.

The Zimmerman apartment was far larger and better furnished than Milla expected. Did a Marine sergeant make enough money to support something like this, she wondered, or did they have a second source of income?

«You have a very nice apartment,» Milla said, as Mae Su changed the diaper of her youngest child.

«Thank you,» Mae Su said, and then as if she were reading Milla's mind, went on: «My man is without education and crude, but he is not stupid. We supplied all the houseboys who took care of the Marines in their barracks. And had other enterprises.»

Milla nodded politely.

Mae Su thought of something else. «'And, after much instruction, he became a very good poker player. There was always a little something extra in the pot after payday.»

«Oh, really?» Milla asked, smiling.

«I will really miss all of this.» Mae Su said. «We were here five years.»

«You're going to leave?»

«Sell everything and leave,» Mae Su said. «Before the Japanese really get bad. I have already made some arrangements.»

Milla nodded again.

«I went with my man to your apartment because he wanted me to,» Mae Su said. «He thought we could help each other. I had the feeling you did not agree.»

«How could we help each other?» Milla asked.

«Much would depend on how much money you have, in gold or pounds or dollars—gold would be best—and on how much you could get for Captain Banning's possessions in these circumstances.»

The circumstances were, Milla knew, that the only potential purchasers of a westerner's property were Chinese, and the Chinese were fully aware it was a buyer's market. Ed's things would not bring anything close to what they were worth. Milla seriously doubted she could find a buyer for the Pontiac at all. Who would want to pay good money for an expensive American automobile when it would almost certainly—under one pretense or another—be confiscated by the Japanese?

«Specifically, what do you have in mind?» Milla said.

«At first, I am going to return to my village,» Mae Su said. «I have a tractor, a Fordson, and a small caravan large enough for a stove and to sleep in on the road.»

Milla could see that in her mind. Tractors pulling rickety four-wheel carts were a common sight outside the city, rolling along at five miles an hour on bare tires mounted on axles from ancient automobiles.

She was also suddenly aware that she was talking to Mae Su as an equal. The woman wasn't nearly as stupid as she looked.

«And then?»

«Then I think I shall do what my man said to do. Go north and then west, and try to make it through Tibet and into India. Or perhaps even further north into Mongolia, and then into India through Kazakhstan.»

«Kazakhstan is in Russia,» Milla said with a sense of terror.

Her father had refused to return to what had become the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics—for good reason. As a former general in the White Army, he would have been imprisoned, or more likely shot, if he did. His refusal had stripped him and his family of Russian citizenship; and the Russians, like the Americans, did not permit holders of stateless person Nansen passports to cross their border.

«Kazakhstan is Kazakhstan,» Mae Su said. «It is possible to get through it to India. Gold opens all borders.»

«Why India?»

«My man said for me to find an American consulate, and give them our marriage paper, and the papers he has signed saying he is the father of our children. Maybe they will be able to help us. They would probably help you. You are the wife of an American Marine officer.»

Yes, I am

, Milla realized, somewhat surprised.

«But I only have enough money for us,» Mae Su said. «If you want to come with me, you will not only have to pay your own way, but, if necessary, to share what you have with me.»

«I have some money,» Milla said, thinking out loud. «All that my husband had here. And a little of my own. And the car, and the furniture in the apartments. I don't think any of that will bring very much.»

I sound as if I'm willing to go with this woman, by tractor-drawn cart, to some nameless village in the interior of China, and entrusting her with all I have in the world.

But she sounds so confident, and what other choice do I have, except to stay here and hope the Japanese officer who wants me for his woman will be kind to me? Or to end it all, once and for all?

«If you would like,» Mae Su said. «I could deal with the disposition of your property. I know some people. I might be able to get you more for it than you think.»

«All right,» Milla said. She knew a Chinese could strike a better deal than she could.

«I have two guns,» Mae Su went on. «A shotgun and a pistol. My man took them from the Marine armory.»

«My husband left a pistol with me.»

«And do you know how to use it? If necessary, could you use it?»

Milla nodded. «Yes,» she said. «I know how to use it.»

«That may be necessary,» Mae Su said. «Now, if you will stay here and watch the children, and give me the keys to your apartments, I will see about selling your things.»

«All right,» Milla said, and added: «Thank you, Mae Su.»

Mae Su, for the first time, smiled at her.

Milla wondered if she would ever see Banning again.

Chapter One

note 7

Apartment 4C

303 DuPont Circle

Washington, D.C.

0905 8 February

Fourteen months later, and half a world away, Major Ed Banning, USMC, opened his eyes, aware of the phone ringing. The next thing he noticed was that he was alone in bed.

As he swung his feet out of bed and reached for the telephone, he read his clock, remembering that Carolyn had told him she absolutely had to go to work, which meant catching the 6:05 Milk Train Special to New York. Which meant she had silently gotten out of bed at five, dressed without waking him, and gone and caught the goddamned train. The kindness was typical of her, and he was grateful for it, but he was sorry he missed her.

He was—especially when she showed him a kindness—shamed by their relationship. Even though she had known from the beginning about Milla, the truth was that Carolyn was getting the short end of the stick. They could be as «adult» and «sophisticated» as they pretended to be about their relationship, but the cold truth was Carolyn was doing all the giving, and he was doing all the taking, and Carolyn deserved better than that.

«Damn!» he said aloud, as he picked up the telephone. He had the day off— he had worked the Sunday 1600-2400 shift in the cryptographic room, and would not be expected at work again until 0800 tomorrov morning. It would have been nice to spend that time with Carolyn.

«Liberty Four Thirty-four Thirty-three,» he said into the telephone. It was standing operating procedure in the U.S. Marine Corps' Office of Management Analysis to answer telephones—in the office and in quarters—with the number, not the name. That way a dialer of a wrong number would learn only that he had the wrong number, not the identity of the person or office he had called by mistake.